Different
by Winking Tiger
Summary: Different can be good. Sydney tries to move on. [Sydney and Original Character] AU S3 COMPLETE
1. Part 1

**Title:** Different [1/10] **Author:** Winking Tiger **Rating:** PG **Setting:** AU; General Season 3; post Crossings **Summary:** Different can be good. [Sydney/OC] **Dedications:** I _have_ to thank **Jude** for the inspiration and **Mel** for betaing this for me. **Author's Notes:** This was spawned from an idea I got after reading **_"Easier"_** by the incomparable Jude. Given her permission this piece began and then took on a life of its own. I know that this starts off angsty but it goes through a whole range of emotions and happenings, stayed tuned to see it all.

1

Water is supposed to a symbol for rebirth. I highly doubt it could turn back the hands of time like I need it. No water could ever take back my last two years—that I've seemingly lived but don't remember. Or erase that one decision I made all those years ago, naive and curious, having no idea what it'd lead to.  
  
But the brightest and the weirdest have searched in vain for that magic time machine, the amazing fountain of youth, or the Genie that would make all of your wishes come true with the shake of a magical lamp. Water is only water: the molecules of hydrogen and oxygen that bond to form one of the most amazing substances found on Earth.  
  
And it does serve to calm, at least a little. That's one thing that's true about water—one truth. One truth I know that is actually true. One of too few I can believe in, to uphold their definition of being accurate and truthful.  
  
**Truth list: 1. water may calm given the right circumstances.**  
  
The world is too complicated and too full of deceitful supposed truths, former truths, lies. I know the water rushing against the sand will continue its path and its celestial patterns; as sure as the moon stays its course. I know the wind blowing against me, sweeping my hair in my face, is the sting against my skin. I know the sand beneath me is wet and solid.  
  
**Truth list: 2. the properties of the beach and its including forces remain constant, bar unforeseeable weather conditions.****  
**  
And that's where my truths seem to end. I had come out here in desperation. Everything else hurt too much. I could at least try and see if another setting brought the same pain. My findings are: the wind stinging my face dulls the other pain and the waves crashing upon the shore gives my mind something else to focus on. Who ever said distraction was a bad thing?  
  
With my head against my knees, the darkness of the night wrapped around me, and the sounds of the water and the wind I was able to close my eyes and not hurt so much. It was still there, dull, a little bit further in the back then before, but I could bear it. And I stayed like that, my little slice of serenity—or at least as close as I could get—for as long as I could.  
  
My serenity was great, except for the sound of a barking dog, off in the distance. It was loud enough to wake me up, if I was actually sleeping, but quiet enough to register all the same. Even with the sound reverberating against my every thought I sat out there, just a little longer. Finally, with a deep breath, I walked back—to life and everything I'd been avoiding.  
  
The night passed and the morning came, too quick. But I survived through the day. I'd assured Weiss—just as I'd decided that in a half hour or so it would be dark enough and cool enough to go outside—that I really wasn't good, but I was fine enough and eventually I'd be good. That done, I went to the beach again—maybe there was a reason I moved here. And no matter what had happened or what hadn't happened, or what I'd missed or wished I had missed but didn't, I made time—for once—for myself.  
  
I couldn't get peace or peace of mind on my own, but my trips to the beach did. Somewhere in the darkness of the waters and the music of the waves and winds I earned temporary serenity and the absence of pain. I prescribed my own treatment: one visit to the beach, daily; doctor's orders. It was slow going, some days I cried to myself, alone, on the sand. Other days it was just nice, actually nice, to be there. And, after a while, it really did work.  
  
Time, something that had all too recently become a major thing, took a new place: on one of the simmering backburners. The days would pass, I'd survive through this one and then through the next.  
  
I'd only gone through the motions before. I'd been a hollow shell, afraid of doing something—anything—else to escape from what I was in. But now I was gaining myself back again. There's only so long you can stay hallow, no matter how much it hurts. With Danny, so long ago, I'd immersed myself in work and revenge. I'd had Vaughn the whole time through. He was always there; steady enough for me to lean on when I couldn't stand on my own. Somehow I started to grow on him while he was there—my constant source of support. But those ties that bound us were wretched apart violently. This time, there was no revenge to be sought, no way to find some one—something—to get my two years, my life, back; two years and more questions then answers. No Vaughn, no Vaughn equivalent, and definitely not the same Vaughn, no matter the capacity, as last time. I don't have anyone, or anything, else but me to lean on anymore. Instead, I've found a safe haven in myself—a temporary shelter of sorts—that's separate from the rest of the world.  
  
**Truth list: 3. building support for yourself from within is hard, nearly impossible.**  
  
Sometimes, you need to concentrate on yourself above everything else. When you run, you keep going if you only focus on your breathing—in and out—over the quake of your feet, the wind against you, and everything else that'll only make you stop. So, like focusing on my breathing, I issued more doctors orders: focus on living each day, trying to make the next one more bearable than the previous.  
  
Like in the movies, the days passed by. It wasn't as if I didn't realize the days passed into the next—they were long and hard. But I focused on each day, not the next one or the three after that or the next month. Slowly, they passed. Mission, life, beach, mission, mission, life, mission, beach, life, mission, beach, life, mission, life, beach...  
  
**Truth list: 4. life is hard, but sometimes manageable.**  
  
Things weren't as easy as just staying difficult. No matter how much pain it brought—both of us—things didn't just stay painful or difficult, that would have been too easy. Sometimes, things came into focus. A closer inspection then I'd ever wanted to have again, at least by anyone else other than just myself. I remembered everything I kept trying to forget, to get over. And there was a look in his eyes, sometimes, that I couldn't take. Because things still went unsaid, like they always had been and will be between the two of us—even when things were good, back then. The truth slapped into your face is never good, especially from him. There's just something about not hearing it, only thinking it that makes sense. I couldn't hear why he was still with Alice; I couldn't hear what needed to be said, not then, and certainly not now.  
  
I couldn't survive if he still loved me. I barely do now, with the remorseful, fleeting thought that he still loves what we used to have. If he still loved me, I'd be prone to tell him that I loved him as well. And then the two of us would be prone to trying things that we—I—should not do. Not for her, not for me, not for him. I'd be someone he loves but doesn't share his home, his entire heart, his name with. I'd be a mistress, sex without real attachment, just fodder for adultery in a divorce case. But worst of all—even if things ended between them and we tried to begin anew—I'd be the mistake he made, over and over again. [Who gives up on the 'love of their life' for a wife that they just go on to leave for the suddenly alive former love? Whoever does that just thinks of the what ifs and the 'I can't believe I did this, didn't do that'.] I'd be the flaw of his loyalty and being. I'd be everything he'd done wrong. Things would never, never be anywhere near the same—or even close—to what I'd want, or maybe even settle for, with him.  
  
**Truth list: 5. The past can never be repeated. It was may be worse, or better, but never the same.**   
  
I tell myself this, sometimes, when things are really hard. For the two of us, difficult would be easy. But knowing that even if some desperate hopes came alive it wouldn't be what I'd really want makes things manageable. I don't just tell myself this to make me believe. I know this because I'm as sure as I can be—it's the truth.  
  
All I'd see in him would be the mistakes made. I'd be his mistake.  
  
_tbc_


	2. Part 2

**Title:** Different [2/10] **Author:** Winking Tiger **Rating:** PG **Setting:** AU; General Season 3; post Crossings **Summary:** Different can be good. [Sydney/OC] **Dedications:** I _have_ to thank **Jude** for the inspiration and **Mel** for betaing this for me. **Author's Notes:** I know that this started off angsty but it goes through a whole range of emotions and happenings. Please read and review, I hope you enjoy this  
  
2  
  
In between the chaos of my life, I've never stopped visiting the beach. I don't know exactly how it happened, or why, but it was something I came to need, to want, that helped—actually helped. I used to be able to compartmentalize, separate painfully well, until I needed to extract the memories, the information—the emotions. But recently, since my infamous two years, I just can't do some of the things I used to, or at least not as well.  
  
The waves and the water, and the sun or the moon, and the stars, and the sand, and the ... everything just sort of took a hold of me. They almost became a literal part of me. They take away everything I don't need to think about, everything I should but don't want to, and everything I just don't need to be able to live, at this very moment. It may not be best to set aside feelings, emotions—bottled up emotions explode—but it's sure as hell easy enough to do right now, and works well enough.  
  
Absolute nothingness. Water rolling to and fro. The wind, leaves rattling, the warmth of the sun. Nothingness. There's a noise I keep hearing, faint and in the back of my mind, but I let the noise of nothing overpower it.  
  
It is a battle, but the noise is continuous and getting louder by the second. I can't not think anymore—I am being brought back to reality. Nothingness doesn't include a ... dog barking. Not just a dog barking, but an actual dog, up against me, tail wagging, pleadingly looking up into my eyes, tongue out slightly, puppy dog eyes staring at me.  
  
"Casey, no! No! I'm so—Casey! Casey!—I'm so sor—Case!—sorry. I—Casey!" I look up and see the outline of some guy, he must have been the one who had just called out to the dog all over me—this must be his dog. He sounded genuinely apologetic, but not too surprised, as if it were a common occurrence. His words didn't really make a difference—Casey, it seems, was now only encouraged by his owner's yells, he is bodily on top of me.  
  
"It's ok, really," I tried to get out. Between my teary eyes and the growing smile on my face, I must look like an idiot. What was this guy going to think? His dog runs off the leash and into me. I'm smiling while the dog's all over me and licking my face, with puffy and red eyes—maybe Casey's licking my face because of the salt from my tears. That made my smile even wider and I can't help myself, the very thought made me laugh, really hard.  
  
**Truth list: 6. Silence is sometimes overrated.**   
  
"He seems to really like you," the owner laughs. "I'm so sorry," he says again to me. Between the waves and Casey's surprisingly strong thumping tail against me and the sand, I can barely hear the man. "Casey's a little ... over exuberant around people. I guess it's a good thing that you seem to like him," I think I heard him say.  
  
Looking up, I glance at the guy. He is smiling and his body shakes a little from laughing. I give him a smile; this is a nice deviation from my normal. "It's really okay. I love dogs—and Casey is adorable."  
  
"I'm Colin. Obviously that's Casey. And as adorable as this big lug is, I'm sorry all the same for him rushing you," he says with a big smile. A smile, a cute dog, and manners—nice.  
  
Petting Casey some more, I look up and give both of them a reassuring look. "It's really okay. I love dogs. It wasn't like I was in the middle of performing brain surgery, he didn't interrupt anything." I couldn't help but smile. Nice and light, nothing heavy or serious.  
  
"Here, let me help you up," he says with a smile and an outstretched hand. I didn't realize how heavy a dog could be. Casey's sweet, but he's big! As I reach out for his hand, his smile falters, "Ah—I'm sorry, I don't know your name."  
  
Getting up, Colin helps get Casey off of me, and I look over at the two of them and smile, "Sydney".  
  
He laughs and Casey barks. He looks over at me and then at the water, over to Casey and then back to me. "I'm not a stalker and I'm not a psychopath," he says with a smile and a glint in his eyes. "I'm a strange guy on the beach with his dog." I laugh at him, again, and crouch down to pet Casey. "Would you like to ... walk along the beach with us—the attack dog and the strange man?"  
  
I can't help myself. I stand up, give Casey one more pat, look at Colin, grin and then laugh so hard tears come to my eyes. "Sure".  
  
**Truth list: 7. laughing is good.**  
  
The weather holds up and we are able to go on for miles, only stopping when Casey runs into the water. It's nice: walking as far as I can see and then back again. We talk about small things, important things, everything imaginable.  
  
"Yeah, I come to the beach all the time," I admit.  
  
"Well, I live nearby, I can't help coming over all the time."  
  
"Oh really?" I ask, with raised eyebrows. You had to have money, lots of it, to live anywhere near here.  
  
"Yeah, my house is just a little ways over. It's been in my family for a while now. You know, grandparents, parents, me."  
  
"How sweet," I coo. What am I, a thirteen year old girl with a crush?  
  
"Yeah. It's a great house, with memories all over," he tells me. Waiting a second, he leans over, as if he was going to share a secret. "My Mother insisted that I keep it. I'm not the only one in the family—I have a sister. But it's in a great school district—she has yet to give up her extreme ... _desire_ that she get grandkids out of me."  
  
Laughing, it seems so perfect. "You're lucky to have a mother that cares. And what about your sister?"  
  
"Well, she's too flighty—and too young. Apparently she thinks the task is all on me—I alone," he began to mock, "can continue on the family." He shakes the humor off and says seriously, "I don't know about that though." He sobers even more for a second, hesitating on how to continue. "I have an amazing family. Not everyone's family is perfect, but I lucked out to have mine. I _am_ really lucky to have my Mom—and my Dad too. They're great people, but I don't see them much anymore. My Dad had a midlife crisis a little late and became a judge—in the smallest town you could ever find. Mom's trying not to kill him and keep herself happy, all at the same time. Needless to say, I don't see them too much. And I don't know about me 'continuing the family' any time soon—there is a certain order to things, typically. All I've got is Casey, and I don't think we'll be ... reproducing any time soon." He laughs at his joke and I can't help laughing too. "But I'm not teaching this summer and I'm going to visit my parents for a while, try to write while I'm up there."  
  
"Teach? Write? What exactly do you do?" I ask, confused.  
  
"I'm lowly literature professor over at USC. By some strange coincidence someone thought I was good, and someone died, and then I got the job and tenure." He looks at me seriously, but his words give him away. "The pages don't write themselves," he jokes.  
  
I laugh and then think on how amazing this all is. "That's amazing. That's what I got my masters in." What a small world. "I always wanted to teach, follow in my Mom's footsteps. But then ..." I realize, remember, just how small things really are. Not Laura the literature teacher but Irina, the woman that's done so much to hurt. "I never got the chance to teach though."  
  
Even when things get to serious topics he has a way of making them okay. "Well, when I'm reading and grading papers, it's not exactly my favorite thing. It's not for everyone, but I'm sure you would have been a great teacher." I get this look from him; he makes me want to believe him. I don't think I'll ever really be okay on that subject. "But with Case around, he's not always one to be left alone—well. That could be my problem," he jokes.  
  
"Well, Casey here seems like a pretty good dog to me," I insist.  
  
"He is, most of the time," he assures me. He goes on, jokingly, about how he's had Casey for just over a year. He'd gone to get his little sister a dog, as a birthday present, and fell in love with this little golden pup that followed his every move while he'd looked at all the other dogs at the pound. "... something about these eyes that wouldn't stop following mine. I couldn't help myself." He shrugs it off, trying to lessen everything, but failing miserably.  
  
"I always wanted a pet as a child," I admit. "As soon as I could, I got a pet—just not exactly the best pet to have gotten, I realize now," he looks intrigued and decide that I'll tell him the rest of the pitiful story. "I went and got a small bird, a cockatiel. I named it Cuddles. A month later it turned evil. A month after that it dropped dead in its cage. I didn't get any pets after that," I say, ashamed. Even though Cuddles was mean, I still feel responsible for his death. I don't know what I did wrong, but I don't think I'll try pets again, at least never a bird.  
  
I'm being serious and honest and he laughs at me and my story. Shaking his head disapprovingly, he gives me a mock apologetic look, seeing the anger building on my face. "I'm sorry," he spurts out, between restrained laughter. "I didn't think you were so ... serious about it. Its okay, I don't think kids should ever have pets, they experience death too soon. Don't worry, at least I know to never get you a bird," he tries, knowing that nothing he's said has been too helpful.  
  
Realizing he is trying to mend things, I lessen my angry face and try for a smile. He gives me a goofy face, one akin to what 3-year-olds on a playground make to each other. I just laugh and smile. And the stranger from the beach, as I called him when he said something devilish, just made everything okay.  
  
**Truth list: 8. Not everything has to be okay.**   
  
Walking back, I realize—when we'd almost reached the point where everything had started—that I feel more comfortable with this man that I just met then with a lot of the people in my life. There was—is—this tug he had, that if I got too far away he'd pull me in and I'd feel good again, and happy.  
  
I struggle with myself as we were approaching the end. I had just met this guy, and who knows who he really is and if anything he's told me is the truth—I should know that better then anyone. But there is something about him that makes me want to trust him. He'd told me so much about himself, his life—but I keep reminding myself that it could all be his cover story. How many times have I been a different person, with a cover story that really could be someone's life? One too many.  
  
I'm going to make sure to leave without hinting that I know anything and that'd be that. I wouldn't see him again and I wouldn't have to worry if he was someone out to get me. We walk, talking and joking, to where I'd gotten off the path to reach the beach—so many hours ago. He looks up at the steps and then over to me. I smile, give Casey a hug goodbye and then say something to the effect of: 'Thanks for the walk boys' and walk away.  
  
I have this feeling in my gut as I take each step closer to my house, my car, my real life. But I just keep walking, you can't always put life on hold—not my life at least. It is my day off, but that doesn't mean much of anything. I'm half expecting to hear a phone ring, a beeper go off—something to let me know I have to return to my reality of spy life and espionage. Then again, I also remember how things almost never go according to plan. With that fleeting thought I hear feet pounding against the pavement behind me and someone shouting out, "Hey, wait up for me Syd!"  
  
_tbc_


	3. Part 3

**Title:** Different [3/10] **Author:** Winking Tiger **Rating:** PG **Setting:** AU; General Season 3; post Crossings **Summary:** Different can be good. [Sydney/OC] **Dedications:** I _have_ to thank **Jude** for the inspiration and **Mel** for betaing this for me. **Author's Notes:** I haven't looked at this in some time, so here's assuming it's fine. I know this is on the short side, but maybe if you're all good, I'll post the next chapter really soon..  
  
3  
  
He caught up to me—I slow down and close my eyes in anticipation of seeing his face again. I don't stop though, I keep walking. He tries to talk to me but I am having none of it—my plan is crashing down in flames but I'll hold onto the wreckage.  
  
"Hey, Syd, talk to me," he tries, again. I falter for a moment, look at him, but turn my head away quickly. He can't see me, not like this. He is someone I only met a few hours ago. He shouldn't know me as intimately as he would if I had revealed myself to him. "Syd, are you crying? Hey, don't—shhh, don't cry." He literally stops me, forces my face into direct view of his, and then he brings me to his chest—Casey's leash taught against his wrist—and holds me there. Only after a few moments do I let myself really fall apart.  
  
He couldn't have understood why I was crying. All he could know is that I walked away from him and his dog and as he'd caught up to me, I fell apart in his arms. Real great way to make friends.  
  
The worst part, though, is that even though he didn't know or understand, he's comforted me the entire time. I am standing in the middle of a paved pathway, between homes and cars and the beach. I am sobbing violently against this guy, with a dog at his side, that is almost a stranger—and he offers his strength when he knows that I have none left. If it wasn't bad enough to begin with, his insane sense of loyalty—would that be what it is?—is all too reminiscent of someone else. That someone being the man I've worked so hard to try to get over. The rest of the world had been given two years to ship up and shape up; I only had a few months, _after_ they'd had their two years. I was doing as good as I could be. I was realizing he'd never be mine again, not in any form I'd be happy with. I was finally beginning to enjoy my life again, for what it was and not what it could have been—what I'd dreamed it would be. And this great guy decides to be my friend. Only, he's too familiar of the rock I used to lean on, the one that was cruelly yanked from under me and I've barely made it out intact.  
  
I cry even harder after I think about that. Just when I thought I'd drained myself of all the tears in me—I cry more: more tears, more pain, more heartache. This isn't like any of the other times I've fallen apart. This is me realizing things for how they are and knowing I may never forget, it may never not hurt. Like when my mother 'died', it was painful for a really long time. After a while, time lessened my wounds, but every now and again I'd see something, hear something, smell something, and be reminded of her. And it felt as if my wounds had been ripped open, had never healed, all the time that had passed really hadn't. When I realized the truth, I didn't feel pain over the situation I used to. Maybe her actually being alive, regardless of the person that she is, made things better. But this, this is me seeing the things I loved about a man—a man that's hurt me so much—in the kindness of a stranger. Could I get any more pathetic? Is this what they call desperate?  
  
One way or the other, I need this though. I need someone else's strength, because I have used all of mine up—I have none left in me. Before, I had someone to lean on. Before, I didn't need any extra support. Now I do, I need something else—I can't fix everything, not now. And he's here, he's offered himself. And all I can think about is Vaughn. I grew quiet, thinking, trying to breathe and ward off the headache that's approaching from all of my tears. Between the silence, my thoughts, and the physical presence of his support the fog that had encompassed my mind was clearing.  
  
There's more then just this: memories and pain of the past, there has to be. There's Colin, he is really here, going above and beyond. Some things are real. Dealing with things like this are what I have to do. With the things that matter, that care and make things better, not worse.  
  
Having cleared my head, I think I've composed myself. I know what I want to say, once I'm able to get my voice together. "Colin," I attempt. "Thank you—I'm sorry. I had ... I was ... You shouldn't have—really, I didn't mean to—I'm sure I look insane—you've been so kind to me—I just ... it's been—I'm so sorry." I didn't mean for it to come out like it does. My heart and lungs are too loud; I'm not sure what I actually said just now.  
  
There is silence for a minute or two. Casey barks at a rustling leaf and then rubs against the two of us, to which Colin gives me a large grin. He laughs, and then—amazingly—I do too. "Sydney, don't be sorry," he says soothingly. "Don't ever—I know that we just met, but I'd really like to be your friend. Is that okay with you, could I be your friend?" With the gentlest voice I've ever heard, holding me—even then—and rubbing circles on my back, he looks at me. His words and the look in his eyes go straight to my soul and I feel weak in the knees. I can't help but nod my head. When he holds me tighter, hugs me reassuringly, I cry quietly against him some more.  
  
**Truth list: 9. crying drains the life out of you.  
**  
He doesn't ask any questions. I keep trying to explain to him, but I can't keep myself together for more then a few seconds. He doesn't move or say anything. I am grateful, truly grateful, for him being here, doing what he's going. Long after the last tear dropped I'm leaning against him, my head throbbing from all the crying I've done. His hands still circle my back and I keep my eyes closed—partly from an odd form of contentment and partly from exhaustion.  
  
_tbc_


	4. Part 4

**Title:** Different [4/10]

**Author's NonTypical Notes:** I'm sorry about the delay in the chapters. FanFiction wasn't working right for me to format my documents. The bad news is that indents are no longer supported. The good news is that I'm getting over my rage at the loss of indentations and posting the rest of this story, as I had planned originally, but in a slightly different format then before.

**Author's Notes:** This is the beginning of a break from all that angst and into, well, previously uncharted territories.

4

That was hours ago, I realize—or would it be remember?—as I feel the wind blow against me. It's dusk out, I'm lying on a bench, looking out at the beach, and I'm not home. Seconds before panicking, I see a blur to my left, and as my vision clears I realize it is Casey. Okay, so I'm somewhere, not home, with Casey the dog—I guess ruling out a kidnapping from some organization can happen now.  
  
I try to look around me more, but my head hurts, and I am beyond groggy. My whole body is off. I'm stiff and groggy and ... just exhausted. I'll just lay my head down for a moment more, that's the plan of attack. With a few more moments of rest I'll be good to figure out where I am and why. Just a minute ... the wind's so nice ... so dark out ... just a few minutes ......  
  
Spy reflexes barely in check: there is someone above me. _Thisclose_ to screaming, a horribly un-powerful or fierce cry, I decide opening my eyes to see this psycho is a good idea. Colin, its Colin—breathe, its just Colin.  
  
"Don't hurt me and, please, don't scream," he says, softly, with a smile. God, he has an incredible smile. "You were exhausted. I carried you back here—my house—after I had dead weight, suddenly, on my chest. You have any info on how that could've happened?"  
  
Don't stutter, don't look or sound stupid, be 'together'. "Oh"  
  
He chuckles and maybe I didn't sound too feeble. "I wasn't trying to scare you. I know you were upset, I carried you home—you slept through the entire thing, I've never met anyone that's slept so soundly!" A laugh, an appropriate nudge, and then with a sincere look at me, "I didn't think you'd enjoy waking up in my bed—some stranger's bed. While I was thinking over my plan of action, I placed you gently on my bench—hey, don't look at me like that!" He is so genuine; I can't help but just laugh and smile. With an impish look he admits more, "You looked so content when I came back, I couldn't move you."  
  
"Thank you," I tell the grass blades blowing in the breeze.  
  
He doesn't say anything and I start to fear this uncomfortable silence will overcome us. "Syd," he says, less confident, less jovial—with a hint of trepidation.  
  
"Yeah?" I ask, finally lifting my head.  
  
Looking at him, he seems more at ease again. "I'm really glad Casey found you today," he tells me, the sincerity of his words sparkling in his eyes.  
  
"I ... I am too," I respond, almost afraid of the truth of today's happenings.  
  
"I don't want to sound crazy," he starts, "but it seems like, after today, I've known you my whole life."  
  
I am beyond taken aback. What he just said is the truth, I feel it too—I'm just not sure if I'll be able to express it right. "I ... god, I can't even begin to—today has just been amazing," I admit. Before finishing I take a deep breath and then look at his face, "You're amazing, Colin."  
  
**Truth list: 10. friends are good.**  
  
Our eyes lock for a moment—not intense or awkward or overly emotionally—just right. He's the one that breaks, moves his eyes off of mine to close them for a moment. A smile comes over him as his eyes just barely open. "Listen, I know it's gorgeous out, but I don't want you driving home while it's too dark outside," he murmurs.  
  
I laugh, thinking how little he knows about what I can handle. I don't _that_ would go over well, not just yet anyway. I don't want to go—I don't want to loose this moment—I really like _this_. This: the night the company, everything about this very moment. "It is nice out," I manage to say.  
  
It hangs in the air for a moment but he doesn't seem to want to leave things as they are. "Okay, so maybe I am being a little ridiculous, but I do want you home safely. You're not done with me yet Miss Sydney," he says with a grin. I don't say anything, there might be humor there but knowing that he cares is enough to keep my quiet. "What would you think about lunch tomorrow?"  
  
I smirk and say saucily, vaguely, "Depends."  
  
"Depends on what, exactly?" he asks, curious and cocky.  
  
"Depends on who I'm eating with," I say coyly. He thinks he's got it, yeah right. "Because if I have to eat with you..."  
  
"Me!? I was talking about you taking Casey off of my hands for a few hours."  
  
"Oh, well, then of course!" I move a little, and my hands find fur. "Hey, buddy, what do you say about it? You, me, lunch—tomorrow." When he smiles—a big doggy 'show the teeth but I'm not going to bite you' smile—I know I'd have a lunch date, one way or the other. "Thanks, Casey; I think I'm going to have the best lunch date with you tomorrow."  
  
"Hey now, I think it's unfair for the dog to be getting all the action," Colin tries.  
  
"Action?" I repeat, with a raised eyebrow. "Who said anyone was getting any action?"  
  
He looks at me like a kid that had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. With a tiny pause he goes on to say, "I think I heard Casey mutter something."  
  
"Sure, sure," I tell him, as I start to yawn and stretch. "So maybe I should start to head home," I admit, innocent guilt all over my face.  
  
Looking at me, his eyes focus and I see something—a glimmer of something I can't discern. "Just let me see you tomorrow," he begs, with that quiet, sincere voice of his. It's suddenly serious, but I'm filled with excitement. I feel like a kid, with carefree innocence and joy. To be able to repeat this day, I just can't image anything much better—anything I'd rather do, right now. I've experienced more joy and fun today, with this amazing man, than I have in years. There's life, and there's hope—around him there is. Realizing this, I smile, and take his outstretched hand as it is offered to me.  
  
We walk to the inside of his house, his arms around me—I am safe and comfortable, looking forward to the day that is to come, with him.  
  
_tbc_


	5. Part 5

**Title:** Different [5/10]

**Author's Notes:** Here's a much longer chapter then the last one--the adventures of normal, everyday life continue.

5

So the next day we were going to met and then eat lunch together. I'm driving to the house that doesn't seem familiar but should be—I wasn't conscious when I was here last, at least the trip over—and I hesitantly go to the front door. Before I left last night, he grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down his address and quick instructions to get here. He also said that the restaurant we were going to eat at was just minutes away from his house. Standing on the door step, memories of high school flash in my mind, and it's then that he opens the door and ushers me inside. I suddenly get nervous as I walked inside. This time, I remind myself, I'm doing this on my own. There is this feeling, of _something_, that just won't go away. Maybe it's just me being nervous, this isn't something I do everyday. I was able to get an extended lunch so I am wearing my usual business attire. I'm not exactly sure how I was able to convince anyone of that feat, but I was able to all the same. My time will be much better spent with him then at the cafeteria downstairs.  
  
We sit in his living room and Casey comes over and greets me. We talk for a few minutes but conversation is almost awkward for a moment or two, what do you say? Eventually, the minutes go by and an alarm clock goes off. The rest, they say, is history. In actuality, he admits to me that he hadn't been able to sleep last night and had set an alarm for today, in case he took a nap, so that he wouldn't mess up our lunch.  
  
He takes me to a little place on the beach—nothing elaborate or elegant, a hole in the wall local treasure. I feel horribly overdressed; everyone else is in bathing suits and jeans. He fits in, as if he'd been here a hundred thousand times. Me, on the other hand, I stand out like a sore thumb. I tell him this and he only laughs and ushers me toward an empty table.  
  
We talk for hours, sitting at that little table. I thought we'd covered almost everything there was to say the day before, but somehow, that was barely the tip of the iceberg. Conversation ranges from care free to serious, once again—but I make sure to avoid anything that might draw suspicion and reveal my missing two years. I've shared so much with him, but I'm still afraid to reveal that to him. He'd think I'm crazy. He'd ask more questions then I could ask. He would be ashamed of me, of all that I had done. I had barely been able to overcome the fact of the matter that I had lost so much—there was no way he could.  
  
"So you've been sky diving?!" he asks excitedly. "I've always wanted to do that!" he cries.  
  
I laugh at his eagerness, but inwardly cringe remembering the instances that I had to sky dive. I look over to my left, at the white peaks on the waves. Letting the sound sooth me, and letting the moment settle, I look back over at him. "Yeah, I have. I can't say I really wanted to though. I've only done it a few times, but it's really unnerving."  
  
"Well, I can't believe that," he tells me, earnestly. "It must be liberating, to be so unrestricted, so free—to fly!"  
  
"It's not what it's cracked up to be, sorry," I inform him.  
  
Folding his arms, he says with a mock pout, "Well, I just don't believe you."  
  
He's acting like a five year old, but I'm loving it. "Fine, don't then," I instruct him, folding my arms too.  
  
We both erupt in laughter and I think I saw a few heads turn in our direction. I try to compose myself, but I'm failing miserably—apparently he is too. "How old are we, 10?" he tries to get out between laughs.  
  
I shake my head no. "I was thinking more like 5."  
  
"Oh, of course, that's more realistic, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, because I'm always right," I proclaim.  
  
He has this look, as if he wants to respond with a witty come back, but something more important comes to mind. It turns serious, at least his eyes do. "Do you—"  
  
Like yesterday, Casey comes and barges in, barking like a lunatic. A young girl, probably in her late teens or early 20's is being dragged by Casey on his leash, towards us. She doesn't try to stop him, as if she knows there's no point. She only shakes her and laughs. Once they reach us, she deposits the leash on Colin's lap and half leans against his chair, half sits on his lap. Just who is this girl?  
  
She starts to say something to Colin, but I can't hear what she says. I'm trying not to get too curious or too carried away, so when Casey comes over and plants his head in my lap I don't mind the distraction. "Sydney," Colin starts, grabbing my attention. One hand still petting Casey's head, I turn to look over at him. "This," he tells me while motioning to the girl, "is my little sister, Viv." She gives me a warm smile and leans over to shake my hand. "Viv, this is Syd," he tells his sister with a brotherly look while we're shaking hands.  
  
Viv moves a spare chair between us, obstructing my view of Colin and the water, and sits down. Seeing my slightly ticked off look, Colin tries to tell me what Viv and Casey were doing there. "I didn't want Casey to miss out on his lunch date with you, but I wanted to make sure I got some time with you before he came." I give him another look and he just shrugs his shoulders, chuckles lightly and leans into Viv—the two of them giving fake sighs. "Fine, I didn't want to leave Casey alone and bored in the house while we were eating lunch. He tends to chew furniture or leave me little presents around the house if I leave him alone too long," he says with a laugh. "Viv was kind enough to offer to take him for a while. Plus, I was being a good big brother," he says, with a mockingly stern tone, "and give her a break from doing her school work." He smiles at Viv and then at me. "I didn't think you'd be able to take a long lunch so I told her to meet me with the big guy around 3." Glancing at his watch, he flashes me a devastatingly handsome smile, and shrugs, "The little brat took her time, seems it's actually 3:15."  
  
**Truth list: 11. always be careful of 'the other woman'—she's not always a threat.**  
  
I'm giddy with the whole situation. As soon as his words sink in I let out a few expletives. I was given a long lunch, not the rest of the day off. I needed to be back a few hours ago. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! I need to head back. I can't believe we were out here so long! I'd love to stay longer," I tell him, hoping the sincerity leaks through. "I really wish I could, but I'm going to get in so much trouble as it is. You may not see me for weeks now!" I try for humor, but I'm not sure if it worked, I'm nervous on so many levels.  
  
I get out of my chair and start fishing for my wallet in my purse. Colin stops me, pulling my hand out of my purse. "Don't, it's my pleasure. Just ... call me and let me know you're still alive once work's over for the day, okay?" How could ever I say no to that? "Here's my phone number, just call me," he instructs me while handing me a card, "at this number, right here."  
  
Looking over at the card I smile. "No problem, but I may get in late. I'll call you tomorrow then, okay?"  
  
"Okay, call me when you can—and don't worry about waking me up," he lets me know.  
  
Really getting up to leave for good, I turn to the three of them. I pat Casey's head and hug Colin good bye. Waving to Viv as I leave, I let her knew, "It was nice meeting you, Viv." Just before I was through to the parking lot, I turn around and yell to Colin, "I'll call you!"  
  
I walk away with a smile on my face, once again. But as I walk through the rows in the parking lot, I begin to panic. My car isn't here. Someone has stolen my car! I walk briskly up and down the rows, looking under cars as if I was searching for a lost cat. No car in sight, my heart is racing and my mind is running through all my options. I'm standing in the middle of the second row, lost in my frantic thoughts, when someone lightly touches my back. I'm trying not to react and I try not to turn around and drop kick this guy when there is suddenly a voice with the hand.  
  
"You didn't drive, I did." Colin. Thank god, I thought I was loosing my mind and I was most definitely loosing my control.  
  
**Truth list: 12. always remember how you got to your destination. If you drove, your car will be there. If you didn't drive, your car will not be there.**  
  
"I totally forgot," I say, blushing as I turn around to face him. "I thought someone had stolen my car. I was trying to think who to call and what to do," I explain, feebly, as my face grows redder by the second.  
  
"I was talking to Viv when she happened to notice that my very lovely friend, you, was slightly freaking out in the parking lot. I joked that you just couldn't find your car and then it clicked and I ran right over." He looks at me, begging for forgiveness.  
  
"I was sure I had gone crazy," I admit. Deciding that he deserves a little teasing, I say, "And then some punk was going to try something on me—my day was just getting worse by the second."  
  
Not taking any of the bait, he grins and asks me, "Why, what happened today?"  
  
I go on to describe how I went to lunch with this creep and he was dumb enough to have another woman show up while we were eating lunch. He laughs, guides me to his car, and pretends to listen earnestly as I tell him of my day's adventures.  
  
Sitting in the passenger side of his car, I am beaming. Not even the threat of my father's wrath, or Dixon's scolding could make me upset right now. I have to get back to Colin's house to pick up my car so I can head back to work. I just hope I don't have to go on a mission tonight. If I do, guess who's getting an international call tonight?  
  
_tbc_


	6. Part 6

**Title:** Different [6/10]

**Author's Notes:** This was a personal favorite of mine to write. It was really fun to write and I hope you all enjoy this part as much as I loved writing it. (By the way: the dog comment is my opinion, I lost a loved pet because of that, if you love your pets keep them leashed and watch them.)  
  
6  
  
"Hey, you've reached Colin and Casey. We're not home. Leave a message and we'll get back to you." I hear Colin's voice, his answering machine message coming through the line. Before the 'beep' comes, Casey barks and there's a muted "I'm not recording the damn message again, stop barking Case!" The beep comes and I try not to laugh—even though I've heard this a hundred times by now.  
  
"Hey, it's me. I know I told you I had to go away for a few days on business, but I just got back home. I'm in the car, on my way home," I say, trying to balance my cell phone on my ear. "I'm sorry I couldn't call you; I didn't get a chance to reach a phone," I try, cringing when I remember just what I was busy doing. "I hope you and Case are fine, I'm sure you missed me terribly, but I hope you survived. How'd that football game go, did you win? Oh!, and what happened with Viv, is she okay? I know things were ... tense, but remember she is your sister—let me know, okay? Also, I'm going to bring you over some mangos. Eric and another idiot from work ... you know what, I'm not even going to try. I'll bring you some—just don't ask, okay? And ... this message is probably too long and it's going to cut me off any second, so I'm almost home—call me, bye."  
  
I'm on my way home from another mission. It was different, almost, because I hadn't been on a mission in a while. It wasn't as if things were slow, they weren't. I just wasn't necessary or involved in the cases that were the most important. I wasn't going to complain, I was able to take at least 2 or 3 actual lunches each week. I was lucky enough to be able to meet Colin and eat with him. If that weren't enough, I even got a day off most weeks. It was like a vacation I'd needed forever—a little mini break during my busy week.  
  
There weren't any new, real, leads to my missing two years. I was resigning myself to the fact that we may never know what had happened, or why. But right now, I have to get my keys into the lock so I can open the front door. It doesn't really matter what happened those two years, I am here now, and I can live now even if I don't remember living those missing years.  
  
Just as I'm stepping inside the house I hear my answering machine: "Hey, you've reached me. I'm not home right now. But leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a nice day!"  
  
The 'beep' goes off and the message begins. "Hey Syd, Little Miss Phone Screener, don't discriminate, pick up the phone!" He is quiet for a second, but I can hear some noise in the background. "I just got your message; I was able to get home early." I'm trying to make my way to the phone, who puts in phone jacks anyway? They're almost always in the oddest places and farthest away from where they'd be most convenient. "Okay, maybe you aren't home. I am, you can call me, okay? We can make mango smoothies!" Expecting the machine to click off, that the call had ended, I hesitate in picking up the phone. "Are you there? Syd?" he asks, again. Yes, I'm here! Just as I pick up the phone I hear him on the machine, "No, I guess not."  
  
Before he could get to his typical good bye, I catch the phone. With a smile, I speak into the receiver, "Hey."  
  
"You are home! You were screening, weren't you!?!" he accuses me.  
  
"No, I just got home—honestly. I heard the machine pick up as I was walking in."  
  
**Truth list: 13. Phone tag isn't fun.**  
  
"Good, come on over then. Bring those mangos and we'll have some fun. Downtime Syd, it happens and it's good. I'll bring you over to the dark side, just give me a chance." I know he's smiling, I can see his grin even if I'm not with him.  
  
"You're off for the rest of the day?" I question. I'm tired, I'm allowed to be after the last 36 hours I had. If he's only home for a few minutes I'm not even going to bother.  
  
"Of course! Come on, stop stalling, I'm not going to torture you over here, promise!" he snickers.  
  
"Fine, fine!" I sigh. Jingling my keys next to the phone, I ask him, "Hear that? Those are my keys, and this is me leaving the house." Hanging up the phone I can't help but smirk. Shut the door. Get into the car. Five, four, three, two—cell phone rings. I knew it! "Yes, Col?"  
  
"You're so bad!" he laughs.  
  
"Yeah, so?" bitch, thy name is Sydney. "I couldn't help it, forgive me?"  
  
"Only if you're here in the next 30 seconds."  
  
"If you're pouting, I swear Col," I begin. "I won't be there for the next 30 days!" Was I a bit too stern?  
  
"I'm not," he cries, amazingly with a mature tone. "I've just missed you," he half whispers.  
  
So maybe I was a little too stern, this is Colin, not some thug. "Oh, I missed you too. I'm sorry Colin. It was just a hard, long ... bad trip. You know, it's hard for me to let go of that sometimes."  
  
"S'kay, I put up with you—god knows why—but I do. Just, get here." He's so sweet sometimes. It's nice to come home, knowing there's someone that cares where you are. "I'll hang up now," he tempts.  
  
"Well, I'm almost there, so it's okay. You may have missed me, but I think you can take a minute or two of not hearing my voice." He doesn't say anything to that. "Look, I know it's been a rough few weeks. I'm sorry. It's just been ... I had to go with Michael this time."  
  
"Oh, Syd," he says, apologetic. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Hey, it's not like you forced him with me," I try. He makes this noise, this 'I don't believe you, I know you too well for you to think that'll work on me' kind of noise. "I'm fine, really. He's just not doing well, there's a lot going on with him. And it was ... it wasn't good between us."  
  
"Good would be getting rid of that guy! If I'd have—" he starts.  
  
"Don't, Col. I just wanted to be home. With you, I would have had fun. With him I was just ... unhappy. I'm done now, things went longer then expected but it's over. I'm turning the corner ... and now I see the park ... the ice cream man just passed on the other side. Okay, I see—" approaching his house I see him. "Hey, I see this handsome man out in front of this really nice house. He's wearing this great shirt and he's got a big old dog next to him. You have any idea who this guy is, maybe you could introduce me to him—what'd you think Col?"  
  
"Don't you start," he scolds me. "I'll hold Case while you park," he offers, knowing I'm always mad at him for not always keeping Case on a leash—afraid that I'll run him over. Finally I park and I'm about to turn the car off when I hear him huff at me over the phone, "Hurry it up; we're waiting out in the sun for you."  
  
**Truth list: 14. Always keep your dog on a leash, it'll save their life.**  
  
"No problem," I tell to my cell phone—which is now in my purse. Carrying the bag of mangos I threw in the back seat I get out of the car.  
  
Casey's already made it to me, just shy of his record time. "Hey there Case," I cry. "I know, I know," I confide, trying to calm down the beyond excited dog. He's big, and he thinks he's a lap dog; the damage he does and doesn't realize is amazing. Finally, he's calmer: butt down, tail thumping, leaning against me. "I know! I missed you too!"  
  
"Are you forgetting something?" Colin asks, shadowing over the figures of both Casey and I.  
  
"Nah, just getting to that now," I inform him, standing up and moving over to him. Casey isn't as calm as I thought, apparently, because he's rushing over to me, again. He knocks me into Colin, as we had both moved to each other at the same time. Colin's face is right there and mine is so close and ... oh ...  
  
"Hi," he tries lamely. I'm in his arms, Casey forgotten at our side. My lips are tingling from that 'accident'.  
  
"Hi," I respond, just as lamely. "I, uh ..."  
  
He pushes us both back up and takes a firm grip on my hand. Casey tags along behind us, narrowly making it into the door before Colin had closed it. I am lead to the couch and then promptly deposited there. I look up at him—his tall figure standing in front of me.  
  
His smile could light this whole house up for a week. "So I know you're not 16, and I might act like I am sometimes," he says, jovial and beaming. "But I'm really not," he confides, and then whispers, "don't tell anyone that."  
  
I'm still taken aback by everything, temporarily muted. All I can seem to do is weakly nod my head. He's got so much more control over the situation then me right now. He's talking and moving and focused; I'm just—  
  
He leans down, so that we're almost eye level. I've always had a thing for guys that were taller then me. "Syd," he half asks half states. "I can't believe how lucky I've been this year. From the moment Casey laid eyes on you, my life's just been brighter and better. I didn't know anything about you, but we had this instant connection—"  
  
"I know!" I exclaim, interrupting him. I'm finally in control of my voice, only I'm able to use it at the wrong moment.  
  
He only smiles at me. He moves to sit besides me on the couch, continuing the constant eye contact, and caries on. "There was something about you that I just _needed_ to be around you, to protect you, to be there for you. You fell apart that afternoon in my arms and I felt like I had a purpose." He looks so satisfied; it shocks me that he really feels this way. "You trusted me," he breaths, letting off a nervous laugh. "God knows why—I'm just an awkward, funny guy." He's getting this serious look again and I don't know what's coming next. "But you did trust me, and you let me be a part of your life. I knew you were hurt, and you let me in. You let me try to help you. And I think I fell in love with you." He's looking right into my soul right now; I can feel his gaze piercing my heart. "I fell, hard," he says, sincerely. "I know you're still mending, I know the last thing you need is someone else to play with your heart, but you've had mine for so long now, I just ... you should know," he finishes. He can't quite meet my eyes anymore. Instead, he's looking slightly up and to the right, past me.  
  
**Truth list: 15. Life can sneak up on you, watch out or you may never realize it's there.**  
  
Mirroring his own actions of so many months ago I lift his face to mine and bring his eyes level to my eyes. "I can't say I'm worth much of anything, but just so you know, I think you've had my heart for a while too." I'm taking control and making sure this doesn't get glossed over and forgotten as a moment of embarrassment. Before, I didn't want anyone, not after everything I'd been through. But I had this amazing friend that I couldn't be away from too long or a piece of me started to ache. It took him delivering his soul to me on a silver platter, and a goofy dog, to get me to realize the truth of the matter: I fell in love.  
  
He leans into me, slowly. Just before our lips meet I hear him whisper gently, "thank you."  
  
_tbc_


	7. Part 7

**Title: **Different [7/10]

**Dedications:** I _have_ to thank **Jude** for the inspiration and **Mel** for betaing this for me. And for **Colin**, who inspired me, so much. (How could you have never had a nickname before me?)

**Author's Notes:** Mostly silly and frivolous, I couldn't help myself—this just seemed like the right place to put this bit in. It's a break from anything that'll really propel the story. You can just skip on over this part, I can't really be held accountable for any efforts made into the realm of pure fluff.  
  
7  
  
Casey starts to bark while Colin and I are eating lunch at his dinning room table. Volunteering to get up, Casey eagerly tags along by his heels as they leave. All alone, I don't know what to do with my free time. They'll only be gone for a few minutes, I just need to bide my time. Find something to do ... there's the front page on the counter, I'll skim the headlines. No, I get enough 'current events' daily, how about something fun. There's ... there's got to be something on TV. Sure, TV will work. I walk over to the living room, taking up residence on the couch. Clicking around, I finally find something good on—a show of funny animal tapes—when I hear the door open and a dog bark.  
  
"Hey, Col, come here, look at this—it's hilarious!" I yell over at him. As he comes over to the living room, the dog on the TV jumps even higher, reaching the table. "This dog ... look at him, how adorable!"  
  
**Truth list: 16. Cute animal shows featuring animal antics and tricks are always hilarious.**  
  
Colin settles in next to me and we watch the show together, while Casey settles in on the love seat. "Hey Case, you have competition," Colin jokes after seeing my reaction to the dogs on show. Casey doesn't even lift his head; I guess he's fast asleep. Once the show ends I turn the TV off, before we both get sucked into it and never leave the house. I lie back, thinking what we can do for the day and Colin just looks over at me. "Sydney," he says with a smile. "Sy," he tries and then shakes his head. "Ney," he tries then and shakes his head again. He did just call me knee, as in the body part, didn't he? "Syd," he says with a big smile.  
  
On a good day he's crazy, kooky, and playful. Right now, he's certifiable. "What?" I ask.  
  
"Syd," he says, as if there was nothing odd going on.  
  
I look at him, of course, as if he's become even odder—because he is, every second he's getting odder then normal. "Yes? That _is_ my name."  
  
"I know that, _Syd_," says Mr. Crazy. "I just ... Syd is you're nickname, that's the only thing I could call you, other then you're full name. But that's so formal, two whole syllables."  
  
I start to laugh then. He's gone from crazy to serious and it's all, in his own Colin way, in this lighthearted fashion. "Okay. So what, I've got a full name a nick name. It's not exactly something that's rare."  
  
He laughs and smiles and pulls me to him. "But I'm always Colin. I've _always_ been Colin."  
  
I think I suddenly understand. No one else would have brought this up. If they had, it wouldn't have been with a chuckle and a smile. Maybe that's what I'm starting to really love about him—he's not anyone else, he's like no one else I've ever met, he's unique and he makes me happy.  
  
"Do you want a nickname?" I ask him. His pull to hold me tighter seems like the only yes I'll get. We're not all perfect, he's no exception. He can be as hard headed and stubborn as I can be. He can be a typical guy and hold back his emotions, refuse to admit weakness. He doesn't always ask for help. It's not just about pride, it's something more—I think he has this need to try things on his own, to see if he can accomplish something. When he can't, he does ask, sometimes more willingly then other times. But I know him well enough now to tell when I just need to read his actions and words—or lack there of—because he won't let me know otherwise.  
  
Thinking about this nickname business of his, it becomes silent for a little bit. He's still holding me, and it's a comfortable silence—I think. He doesn't say anything, and he's barely fidgeting, so he can't be too uncomfortable. I look over at him, but he's not really looking. He's staring at something I can't see—it's as if he sees something that's not there, but whatever it is, it's important. "Col," I try, attempting to get him to get out of his haze. He moves a bit, then turns his head, as if he's back to reality, and knows it.  
  
"What?" he asks, a little unnerved that he was caught drifting off. When I start to smile—trying hard not to laugh—he starts to get agitated. "What?" he asks, a little gruffly, tired of not knowing the joke.  
  
"You already have a nickname," I tell him. "You've had one for a while, apparently." I can't help but laugh. It's so domestic, it's sickening.  
  
"What!?!" he asks, incredulously.  
  
With a grin I let him know what I came to. "I realized you already have a nickname. I gave you one."  
  
"I do?" he asks, eager, like a child.  
  
"Yeah." The two of us are the down right picture of perky perfect right now. "I gave you one already." His head moves a little, his eyes become unfocused—he's trying to remember when I could have used this nickname of his and what it was. Taking pity on him, I let him in on the big secret. "I couldn't come up with one just now. But you were in this funk, so it didn't matter. When I tried to call you back to me, it came out. You just responded to it as if you've had it all your life."  
  
"Really?" he asks, sincere. "I didn't notice."  
  
"I know. That's what made it so cute." He's got this puppy dog face right now, and I can't help but lean in to him, to try to absorb some of it—bask in it.  
  
"So what it is then? I'd like to know this, now, and pretend _not_ to be an idiot."  
  
"Well," I begin. "It starts with the letter C," I whisper, getting closer to his face. "It ends with the letter L." I get closer still. "And it's got an O in the middle." Just as I'm about to reach his face, his lips, I pause. "I'll give you a hint," I tell him with a toothy grin, "it's the first three letters of your name."  
  
I was going to kiss him, in celebration of this nickname of his. But it's too great of an opportunity for him, apparently, because he takes it upon _himself_ to thank me. A very handsome reward, may I say.  
  
**Truth list: 17. Being creative is fun, and rewarding.**  
  
There are several minutes of reward time. After a while, we just relax back against the couch, snuggled together. "So maybe," he says, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "we should just stay here today."  
  
It sounds way too appealing, but I have some hesitance. I'm not a nun, but I don't want to start something—really start something—without him knowing the truth, the whole truth. It'd taken me long enough to accept him as something other then just a friend, this final barrier wasn't going to be broken easily.  
  
Just as I was thinking of a way out, Casey came in to the rescue. With a bark, he leaps onto the couch, between us. "How about we take Casey out to the park? It is a nice day outside," I begin. "It's a rare day off for me, I want to enjoy it. Come on, it'll be fun."  
  
He looks disappointed, but not angry—that's good for now. Soon, I'll have to tell him soon. "Come on," he says to me, "get your butt off this couch and put some sneakers on." Languidly I get up off the couch and head to the hall where my sneakers are. As I'm walking over I can still hear him talking, "While you get ready I'll get some things together for our day at the park." Just when the kitchen cabinets obstruct my view of him, and he thinks that I'm too preoccupied with my given task to hear him, I overhear him talking to himself, "Do I have plans for you ..."  
  
_tbc_


	8. Part 8

**Title:** Different [8/10]

**Author's Notes:** This chapter was really difficult to write. I know it's short and has a cliffhanger, but things are resolved soon enough.  
  
8  
  
I woke up early this morning and called Col as soon as I could get my head off the pillow. He wasn't exactly happy that it was 6:50 AM when I decided to do this, but he was happy that it was me on the other end of the phone. I came over to his house and found him, after ringing the doorbell over and over, boxer clad with bed head and half opened eyes. I told him to go back to sleep—he didn't even give me a second glance; he walked straight up to his room.  
  
Needless to say, I decided to be productive while _someone else_ decided to catch a few more Zs. Looking around his kitchen I was able to find enough ingredients and tools to make omelets. Forty-five minutes later I had two beautiful omelets and two glasses of orange juice sitting on his table. Sleeping beauty came over at that point and we sat down and ate breakfast together.  
  
Now, it's silent at the table, we're both focused on the food in front of us. I look up and see Colin, he's in the middle of eating a bite of his omelet when it hits me—now is the time. I push my plate away from me and look at him. "This isn't a soap opera, or a story from a bad TV show. As unbelievable as it is, as it'll sound, this is my past." He makes this weird face, his cheeks pouch out, and I can tell he is trying really hard not to spit out the food in his mouth.  
  
His face starts to turn into a pink-redish hue. I know he's trying not to laugh, he doesn't believe me—but he doesn't want me to think that. He looks at my face, closely, for a minute, until he finally says something. "What?"  
  
"I thought I found my soul mate a little over 5 years ago. I had been engaged to another man at the time—and I thought my life would be perfect with him, before everything changed."  
  
He's not sure of what to make of it all. "I was engaged to a kind and caring man, Danny. He was a doctor and I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. But there was a secret I had kept from him. I had to tell him, before I could marry him—for him to know who I really was."  
  
He doesn't seem too fazed or afraid. "Okay, we all have some secrets that we hold on to, no big deal, right?"  
  
I shake my head, I can't look at him, I'm afraid of what's going to happen next: revealing my secret, again; how he'll react. "I told him, I told everyone, that I worked for a bank: Credit Dauphine. Credit Dauphine was a cover for a secret division over the CIA, SD-6—or so I thought. When I told Danny the truth, and security section found out, they had him murdered. I found him dead in our bathtub. That's when I found out the truth. SD-6 was one of ten divisions of a black market criminal organization. I had been working for the very people I thought I was fighting against. I found out everything I'd ever known was a lie." I hesitate and look over at him. I can't read his expression and I'm more scared then I can remember being in a long time.  
  
**Truth list: 18. Drudging up the past sucks.**  
  
I want to get this off of my chest and then run for the hills. "I went to the CIA and became a double agent—to bring down SD-6 and to revenge Danny's murder. But the fight was bigger then I thought it was. Instead of weeks or months, it took years. While I worked, I had a contact with the CIA, my handler, Michael Vaughn. That's Michael, that's how I really met him, that's how we really started to work together. At first I thought he was too young to handle my case. We butted heads at the begging. But when I had no one else, he became my shoulder to cry on, my strength and my support. After a while it wasn't about revenging Danny, so much as bringing down SD-6 to be free—to live my life however I wanted to.  
  
"We got a break and were able to bring down SD-6. I was free and the emotions that had built over the years I'd known Vaughn were able to be expressed. Everything happened very fast and we were in love. There was barely a moment to spend with each other, we were almost always working. If it wasn't a mission half way across the world in an insane get up, it was half way across the world without him. After so much, we were going to finally go away for the weekend, to Santa Barbara. He dropped me off at my house and was going to pick me up after he went to debrief." I can't escape the memories anymore and I can't pretend that I can overcome then, not right now. I want to cry, to forget it all happened, but Colin deserves to know—even if he hates me once he knows.  
  
"When I got home I found out my roommate was actually a double. She wasn't my best friend Francie, she was a double—someone that looked exactly like Francie, sounded like Francie, was Francie—who had been living in my house for months after she'd killed the real Francie. I found my other best friend, Will, in the bathtub—just like I'd found Danny. Only Francie's double, Allison Dorien, found out I knew the truth and we fought. The next thing I remember was waking up in an alley in Hong Kong. I found out two years had passed. That's where I was. That's why I don't know things sometimes, because I have no memory of living then. I spent months trying to find out what happened. But my life was gone. Francie was dead. Will was in witness protection. My father had been imprisoned. My partner Dixon was now Director." The memories are overcoming me. I have to pause for a second; the worst part of all was still ahead. Mustering strength I know I don't have, I'm going to try to finish. "Vaughn had gotten married. He thought I'd died, he moved on, and gave up on us. Everything ... everything was different." I can't help it anymore, it's too much, and I just ... broke down, the sobs over coming me. He's silent, the only sound I can hear are my own sobs. The food is forgotten, the moment is dragging on, and the silence is killing me. I can hear the nothingness over my cries—I can't stay here with him hating me.  
  
**Truth list: 19. The truth hurts.**  
  
"I know I've kept so much from you. I didn't want to lie to you; you had to know some things. But I've been through so much; I couldn't share everything until I knew. I ... I didn't want you to get too involved and then find out the truth—and be revolted. There isn't ... I'm sorry."  
  
I'm sitting there, just for a second, one second too many. I'm suffocating; the air is being squeezed out of me with each second of silence. I can't muster enough courage to look into his eyes. I can, though, run away from him, from the house that is strangling me, from his face that would surely kill me if I stay any longer. "I'm not ... I can't be strong any more, I can't."  
  
_tbc_


	9. Part 9

**Title: **Different [9/10]

**Author's Notes:** This part was even harder to write then the one before it. That said, in the end it exceeded all my expectations. I hope you all agree with me.  
  
9  
  
I couldn't stay there any more. The silence was killing me and I couldn't withstand seeing his angry and hurt face. I knew that's what would happen and I couldn't take that. So I left; I don't know where to go or what to do, but I had to leave.  
  
I'm at the beach and trying to calm myself down. It's not working very well because all I can think of are the memories of I have of the beach: of happy and fun filled times, with Colin. I can't stay here, so I leave once again and head to my car. I sit here in my car, thinking of what to do, where I could go. I was thinking about going to the office. But I know that Weiss is out of town, I really would have to work if I went in without him. So ... think of places I used to go to, _before_. The first thing to come to my mind is the observatory, and then in natural progression comes the pier and then the train station. Of course, I start to cry, right there at my steering wheel. Images and memories, feelings and wishes come back fresh and I'm miserable.  
  
Look what this life has done to me—I've lost everything I've ever had, or ever wanted. I had happiness and it's been taken from me, time and time again. Before, it wasn't with a conscious effort that I ruined things, it was always a byproduct. But now, it's all on me—there's no excuse from someone else.  
  
**Truth list: 20. Given the chance, rethink your decision about possibly becoming a spy—once you're in its too late.**  
  
I may have cried and brewed the entire day if the forceful honking of the car behind me hadn't started. Some idiot is honking, over and over, and isn't being exactly nice over anything. So I pull out and start driving, away from the beach.  
  
Out of places to go, I start taking whatever streets look good—places I haven't necessarily been to before, roads I know wouldn't have lots of traffic: wherever the wind takes me. I drive past parks, homes, schools, companies, restaurants, parking lots, malls, even a hospital—I think. I'm paying just enough attention to drive safely and without incident, but not enough to really remember where I am. I do know that I had a full tank before I left and now my gas tank is almost empty. I do know that the entire day I didn't hear anything but the wind, birds, traffic, and car horns.  
  
The day passes by, the afternoon comes and goes, and night has more then just approached, it is here. Something about the way I could hear the night—the crickets chirping—makes me come back to life. I'm starting the journey back home but as the sights get more familiar and I get closer, I don't feel like I'm actually going home—I may recognize the sights but they feel as unfamiliar as they did the day I moved in.  
  
I can hardly believe it, but before I've realized what I've done, I'm almost at Colin's house. I lived the day almost out of my body—I was there but not in control or focused. Once I reach Colin's house, see the familiar front and hear the bark of Casey out in the back yard, I feel in control again. I know where I am, I know why I am here, and I know what I am going to do. I am going to take back control of my life. I am going to take things into my own hands, make things right.  
  
Taking the key I've had and rarely had to use—his door has always been open, for me—I step into the entrance way. This is my home. This is where I've felt safe and comfortable and loved and happy. This is where I want to be.  
  
"Colin!" I cry, hoping it would echo throughout the house. Instead of an answering yell I hear a startled cry and the clutter of something falling onto the tiled floor. My fear is rising by the second—first fearing his anger and now his safety—I run to the living room. It's not exactly reassuring, but he's alive and not screaming, for now.  
  
He's in a stiff position on the couch, the yellow page books open and strewn around the room, and the phone having, apparently, dropped from his grip. He blinks a few times as he focuses his vision on me. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know I can't run away, not this time.  
  
"Syd" he cries, jumping up off the couch and projecting me into his arms—into a fierce hug. He keeps his grip on, adjusting my head into the crook of his neck. When he moves, he only moves to hold me tighter, closer.  
  
The silence goes on, but this is a silence I'm not afraid of. I can tell by our embrace, he's clinging to me—things will be alright, eventually. "Col," I tell him, reassuringly.  
  
"Oh god, Syd," he murmurs. He lets out a shaky breath and grips me even tighter. "I couldn't ... I didn't know ...," his voice crakes as he tries to get out what he wants to say. He takes another deep breath and finally says, "Don't _ever_ do that again, okay. I didn't know where you were. Before I could even gather my thoughts you had run away from me, crying." He still won't let me go, but he looks into my eyes.  
  
I can only meet his gaze for a moment, but it grows too much for me. There are things that need to be said, words and actions that need to be explained—there's too much for me to be completely open and free right now. He moves his arms away from encircling me, brining his arm over me, still clutching me tight. He moves us over to the couch and I'm against him, looking at the scene around us.  
  
"I didn't know where you were. I called your house. I called your cell. I called your office. I drove to your house. I drove back here. I went to the beach. I called your cell a thousand times. I finally came back home—I was beside myself. I took out the phone books; I called all the hospitals even remotely close. I kept the phone clutched in my hands, hoping you'd call. I paced around the house—trying to think of everything that had happened. Everything happened all at once I tried to think if I'd missed something that would lead me to you. When I couldn't think of anything I called everyone, again. I went to your house, the beach, back home. Over and over I called and drove.  
  
"This—today was one of the worst things I've ever gone through—worried and afraid and upset. Syd, you have no idea. I don't care ... whatever you've done, whatever you haven't done—Syd, you could have been anything and I wouldn't have cared. You could have been a former prostitute, a retired Carney, a ... you could have been a man before and it wouldn't matter, Syd." He's been so sincere, so intense—but the last possibility made me giggle a little. He gives me a look and I stop. "Okay, maybe you having been a man before _would_ have mattered, but everything else ... anything else wouldn't."  
  
He looks at me and I get lost in his eyes. Suddenly I remember that I was supposed to be taking charge of things. "I'm so sorry Col—I can't say that enough. I ... so much has happened in my life. Every time I find happiness it gets taken away from me—it gets destroyed. I was afraid to tell you everything, fearing that I'd loose you too. I didn't want to lie or keep things from you. But I just ... if you knew everything, I didn't think I'd be able to – I knew things wouldn't be the same."  
  
"What hurt me," he says, looking at me, "what really hurt me wasn't any kind of past you've had. Not whom you've been, who you've been with, why you didn't know any better—none of that. It was that you kept it from me, and didn't give me a chance to even respond. I know you've had a rough life, I can't even begin to think—I know so little." He's so considerate, caring, and understanding. But the anger—or is it frustration?—is still there and I can see it rising in him. "But that you thought so little of me, that you doubted me—you may be one super strong girl, but I'm a tough guy too, Syd. I can handle things for the both of us if need be. I like taking care of you, I like helping you. I like it when you need me. I love it when you don't, but it makes me feel ... I need to be able to talk to you, see you to fix things when they're not right."  
  
**Truth list: 21. Don't run away—it only makes things worse.**  
  
Looking over at him, I see his strength, but I also see his pain. "I know I shouldn't have run," I admit, looking into his eyes. "I know I should have trusted you—I do, I just ... I still have some bad demons haunting me. You know what they say: old habits die hard."  
  
He doesn't say anything for a second. I see the glimmer in his eyes start to come back. There's strength and there's still muted pain, but there's that beautiful fleck of gold again—passion, love. "I'm madly and passionately in love with you Sydney. If you give me a chance I'll let you know that every day, over and over."  
  
Seeing that glimmer, that glint, flashing in his eyes I can't help but hope the same is in my eyes. Pulling him to me, I breathe against his lips, "If you can put up with me."  
  
_tbc_


	10. Part 10

**Title:** Different [10/10]

**Dedications:** I _have_ to thank **Jude** for the inspiration and **Mel** for betaing this for me. To **Colin**, because--mayhaps there's more then I could say. And to everyone that's ever read and especially anyone that has reviewed this.

**Author's Notes:** This was the first thing I wrote of the entire piece. Over time it's changed but the heart of it's remained the same. Thank you for reading this!

I've lived a little—a lot—since my life started again. I went through being alone, regretting and missing my past. I went through the steps of reclaiming my life again and I thought I'd managed. It took running into an amazing stranger and his dog to really make me see life again. Through tears of laughter and smile wrinkles I'm living again, with a new family—a self made one—where I am happy and safe and loved.  
  
Love really did creep up on me. This amazing man, this friendship, became more then I could have imaged—more then I've ever had before. With Noah there was admiration and a crush that lead to infatuation, which I confused with love. With Danny there'd been companionship and innocent love. With Vaughn there'd been a spark—with the potential for forever: love, friendship, comfort, happiness, everything. But that potential didn't get a real chance. I know that I loved him. Given more time, it would have become everything I saw in his eyes and felt in his words and touches. But time was what we lacked. And then my life started all over again.  
  
I didn't realize it, I didn't want to admit it, but I'd found love and it had found me. I've grown up and I've learned some lessons. I know things won't get easier. No, anyone that says that would be lying. And that's just one more lie that can be crossed out on the "Truth" list. But it does get different. And different isn't always bad. Different can be good. Easy isn't always easy or what you want, or need. But different sometimes is.  
  
There doesn't have to be a happy sunset, a prince charming, or a 'happily ever after'. There may just be soul mates, people that have this connection with you that no one else has or could ever have. But I also know there's people that you genuinely care for, adore, love. And if your love is strong enough, you can keep it together. I've found that, both of them. I didn't think I would, but I have.  
  
**Truth list: 22. You need to be happy with yourself before you can be with someone else.**  
  
If Danny had never been killed, I may just have had a good life. Had I not lost two years of my life, things would be different—I could've been happy, or not. But I have now. A now with a man that I'm not his mistake, with a man that loves me for who I am, for who I was, for who I may be, for everything he knows and everything he doesn't need to know about me.  
  
Different, for me—right now—is what I need, and what I want. You can take your 'easier', but I'll take my 'different'.  
  
I'm in love with my different. I have a future with my different. And my different, my Colin, sees a future with me as well, with the golden glimmer of love shinning in his eyes. Things aren't always perfect but we work hard to keep things together—it's an up hill battle, but we love the adventure we're on.  
  
I may not have forever, but this time I'm cherishing my todays, every day, for as long as I have them. You never know what tomorrow will bring or when things will change. You should always know what you have right now—make sure to hold onto it and not take things for granted.  
  
I'm still sure of only a few things in life: The life that I live. The people I live it with. The moments that make my life what it is. The reasons why I love who I'm with and what I'm doing.  
  
Never say never—you can come to have to face that 'never' as it's biting you in the ass. But you can always say no, and change your mind later.  
  
**Truth list: 23. A woman's prerogative to change her mind should be used when necessary.**  
  
The sound of someone screaming echoes throughout the house, "Cannonball!" Of course, my screaming banshee, Colin, just jumped into the pool.  
  
Okay, so my different is a five year old in the disguise of a thirty- two year old man. He's funny and crazy but he's amazing and I love him. And I'm stuck in my disgustingly hot clothes.  
  
"Syd," he wines, lapping at the edge of the pool. "Syd, come out here!" he shouts. I'm not his mother or his maid and yet I'm moving towards him.  
  
"What," I grumble. It's too hot outside and the AC has gone on strike for the day. I'm cranky when I'm hot, he knows that.  
  
He swims a lap around the pool—as if he's showing off for me—and then he comes back over to where I'm waiting. "Come on in and join me," he says, partly in question and part in instruction.  
  
"How can you be in there? It's a freaking desert out here, with a broken AC—which I still don't believe you called the repair company for—and the water's got to be 80 or more. I can be out here and be hot just as easily—or even inside."  
  
"But it's nice in here. And I _did_ call the repair company, apparently everyone else's broke down today too. I don't think they'll make it out today to work on it—I could have taken a look at it myself, but you insisted that I can't, so you'll just have to suffer." He's being smarmy, with a smirk and a laugh—he knows I'm not happy. "Water, ohh ... refreshing!" he tries to convince me. "Nice and cool! The best weapon of defense we have against the heat," he insists, as if he's the spokesman for pools all around the world.  
  
"No, really, it's okay—I'll go back inside. At least there I can lie down under those great fans, on high," I tell him as I head inside. Ceiling fans on their maximum setting and comfy beds—combined together they produce something truly wonderful: beautiful, comfortable man-made breezes.  
  
**Truth list: 24. Ceiling fans are amazing—I love them.**  
  
"Fine," he pouts as he enters the bedroom. "I'll just have to stay up here with you," he jokes as he reaches the middle of the room. He stands in front of me, bare chest and towel around his wait, and gives me that look of his. That puppy pout, 'why are you—', mischievous grin, 'I didn't do anything, yet' look of his. I just give him one of my own. I turn back to lying next to my dog, who's on his back and enjoying the ceiling fans just as much as I am, and we both—Casey and I—bask in the cool breezes of my amazing bedroom. "Okay, maybe it is nice in here," he admits. Refusing to admit defeat willingly, he asks as if he's being forced, "You happy?" I just smile and lean against Casey, he makes a really great pillow.  
  
**Truth list: 25. Dogs care just as much as humans about basic needs—including comfort, love, and the optimum temperatures.**  
  
Colin isn't about to plop down beneath the fans just yet, so it sounds as if he's drying himself off. It's either the heat or my newfound 'man-made breeze' that's affecting my brain, because crazy things are going through my mind. "If guys can go without their shirts, why can't women?" I ask. He looks at me like I'm crazy and stupid. I always wondered that. When I was little I didn't understand those logistics but I soon learned that's just how things were around here. But when it's this hot outside, why can't us gals do something about it—men can. Traditions and society's parameters don't mean a great deal to me right now.  
  
His expression goes to a whole other level, beyond his initial look of bewilderment, when I actually take the threat to heart. As my shirt hits the floor I think his audible gasp and then gulp can be heard throughout the house, above the noise of my ceiling fan.  
  
"I never was fond of traditions ..." he stutters. The rest of his words are cut off when my shorts follow, along with his towel and his swim trunks.  
  
Different can be really good, under the right conditions, I think—before I suddenly don't care about being hot anymore. 


	11. Epilogue

**A Note from the Author:** From the very beginning I have had this epilogue. It's done and has been for a very long time but I'm still not in love with it. Even with that said, I couldn't help but want something to really make this is an 'as close to happily ever after as possible'. So, in all its fluffy glory, here's the epilogue to Different.

**Epilogue**  
  
I was asleep when something softly touched my face. Turning into the warm hand, I can't help but nuzzle against his skin. He murmurs something; I know it must have been kind and loving. All I can understand, though, is that the barest edges of sleep still hold me. Colin is soothingly rubbing my face and whispering words of love and affection—I'm sure this is a dream.  
  
He becomes insistent, outlining my entire face, softly telling me I have to wake up. I am given no choice in the matter, but waking up like this isn't exactly horrible. He helps me get out of bed and stays by my side as I try to come back to the real world, instead of my dream world. Convincing me to come outside with him, he holds my hand and leads me down to the beach.  
  
I can hear the waves, just as soon as we pass through the sliding glass doors. Barely awake, I'm afraid that I'll fall asleep from the rhythmic sounds. The only thing that kept me awake is the wind—and his touch.  
  
I had fallen asleep, waiting for Col to get ready for our night out. He had taken too much time and my day had been too exhausting and too long. I was fast asleep, with my make-up on, my hair done, and my best dress on before I'd even realized my head had hit the pillow.  
  
But now, the moon is full and the stars are shining like I've never seen before. It's dark outside, but there are candles and torches all around—bringing light and a flickering glow to the entire scene. There is a blanket and a comforter and sheets, covering a section of the beach—inviting just by sight to snuggle and look up at the sky. There are also flowers and decorations all around; it seems like something taken from the pages of a fairy tale.  
  
He looks over at me, emotion seeping out of his eyes, tears barely held back. "I love you." If I thought his eyes held emotion, his words ... I'm blown away by him. "I love who you are, who you can be, who you aren't. I love you because of you—your past, your present, and your future. I love you for your kindness, for your beauty, for your intelligence, for your strength and your weaknesses, for your humor, for your unwavering loyalty, and for so much more then I could ever list in a lifetime."  
  
The tears fall on their own accord from love and joy as he tells me all of this. "I want to spend all my days with you, my nights, my smiles and my tears. I only want a future with you in it. I want to wake up with you next to me and you beside me as I go to sleep." He takes a deep breath, and continues to say, "I want to be able to call you my wife."  
  
I want to stop him, to say something to him—anything, at all, and he'd know what I was trying to tell him, what I want to tell him. But he keeps going on, and makes me want to love him even more. "I want a future with you, as my wife, my friend, my lover. I want to live through fights and making up. I want everything, as long as I have you." Holding both of my hands in his, he looks into my eyes—really looks into them, as if the secrets of the world lay in them. He pulls his left hand away, but keeps his right hand around both of mine, and reaches into his pocket. His hands shake and his eyes glisten. "Please, I love you so much, would you be my wife?"  
  
The memory of a man on his knees in the grass at UCLA singing to me flashes in my mind for a second. But it's the man in front of me, kneeling; looking at me with love and anxious fear that holds my attention. Feeling the look of Colin's eyes on me and the pull of the sea behind us, the grin spreads across my face and the tears stream down my cheeks. "Yes, yes ... yes, Colin!"  
  
"So that was a yes," he asks—if I didn't know better I'd think he was truly unsure about my answer. "You weren't just blinded by the glint off of this rock?" In typical and true Colin fashion, he decides to makes a serious situation funny. But he makes me realize: there's a ring. Looking down, it really _is_ a rock—it's huge!  
  
"Colin!" I squeal. It's beautiful. If I would have picked it out myself I wouldn't have been able to find something this beautiful. It's huge, it's gorgeous, and it had to have cost more then an arm and a leg—more like a whole person or two.  
  
"I guess it really was a 'yes', huh?" he grins. I just can't say anything. I hug him and kiss him and hold him to me as close as I can: just breathing him in, the night, the air, this moment. I pull back, just enough to brace my head against his neck. He's stiff and ridged—he's suddenly demure and almost timid. "Can I put it on you?" he asks, pulling back to look me in the eyes, unsure and weak.  
  
"Yes, yes, yes! I love you Colin, so much. I ... I would love nothing more, I would be honored."  
  
He pulls this symbol of his love for me from the box and he grins, a 'my life can't possibly get any better' grin as he slides the ring onto my finger gently. "Try to not let it pull your hand down too much," he jokes, admiring his new mark on me. He stares at my hand for a moment and then back up at my face and he lets out a breath I didn't realize he was holding. "My god, Syd, you're beautiful," he says, awe struck.  
  
I start to blush and hide my head in his neck. "You're the beautiful and amazing one, Col," I murmur into his warmth.  
  
"No, I'm the insanely lucky one." He laughs and moves his head to look at me. "Syd, do you realize ..." he begins, the emotion evident in his words. He's serious and loving when he continues, "We're going to get married; you're going to be wife." His voice cracks and he holds me close. He stays silent for a while, it's just the two of us and the night and our future.  
  
I break the silence, but I can't help it, "I love you so much Colin." I nuzzle into him, admiring the warmth of his skin against my own.  
  
"I do too Syd, I do too," he says, just above a whisper. Before saying anything else, he guides me wordlessly to lie down on the blankets and sheets he's set up on the sand. Snuggling in his warmth and looking up at the stars in the sky, the soundtrack of the waves, I could fall back asleep without much effort. "When I met you, I never thought this would—could—ever happen. I didn't realize I was missing so much until I found you—found that you filled gaps and spaces I never knew I had. I didn't think there was anyone that would make me feel like I do when I'm around you, or thinking about you. I didn't know life could be like this. I know we've been dealt some curve balls, but we've made it through. We can get through anything. I ... I'm just, I want nothing more then to get that opportunity: to be with you, through thick and thin."  
  
I want to voice my fears, but I don't—it'd ruin everything. If nothing else, Colin has always made it a point to reassure me of my fears. 'No one is perfect,' he tells me. 'But we can do our best.' With a smile and a laugh, and his strength and optimism, I would always believe him. He doesn't hate me when I remember things from my past, habits that are hard for me to break, or when I act oddly to things that only I find pain from. I'll always harbor fears of another man that I love being killed or having his life ruined, because of me. I won't have the time that's been taken from me, and I doubt I'll ever find out what happened to me, but I can't live in fear forever. Just go with the flow and make sure the flow takes you in the right direction—that's one thing that Colin's taught me.  
  
I know that we'll have our fights and I know that my life won't ever exactly be easy. But I see us together. I see a future, whether it's with a white picket fence and 2.3 children or me on missions until I can't anymore. I see a life that I'll enjoy living. I see happiness and laughter. I see strength and love. I see the two of us.  
  
"Do you mind staying out here for just a little bit longer?" He asks me this, after we've remained silent for so long. I'm enjoying just being here with him. It's ironic, that I started my new life on the beach, with the waves and the sand. I'm beginning this new life on the beach, with the sand and the waves—only this time with Colin as well.  
  
Seeing a shooting star skitter across the night's sky, I look over into my new fianc's face. "I'd love that, Colin. I just want to be with you right now."  
  
Turning so it is only the two of us, he gently leans into my face, so that we share the same breath, and places his lips on mine. "Me, you, and the stars," he promises me. Corny and sentimental sap, but it means the world to me. "Come here," he instructs, holding me until the lines defining our separation are blurred. "I'll carry us in if you fall asleep—can't have you getting sick on me, fiancée." Lighthearted and loving; just one side of many to the man I feel in love with. "We've got our futures ahead of us and I'm not letting you go any time soon."  
  
I relax against his chest and the rise and fall with each of his breaths. The monumental events of this night are beyond even my wildest dreams. For right now, it's peace of mind, Colin, and the endless night. It's just us.  
  
**_the end_**


	12. Truth List

**Different – Truth List**

1. Water may calm given the right circumstances.

2. The properties of the beach and its including forces remain constant, bar unforeseeable weather conditions.

3. Building support for yourself from within is hard, nearly impossible.

4. Life is hard, but sometimes manageable.

5. The past can never be repeated. It was may be worse, or better, but never the same.

6. Silence is sometimes overrated

7. Laughing is good.

8. Not everything has to be okay.

9. Crying drains the life out of you.

10. Friends are good.

11. Always be careful of 'the other woman'—she's not always a threat.

12. Always remember how you got to your destination. If you drove, your car will be there. If you didn't drive, your car will not be there.

13. Phone tag isn't fun.

14. Always keep your dog on a leash, it'll save their life.

15. Life can sneak up on you, watch out or you may never realize it's there.

16. Cute animal shows featuring animal antics and tricks are always hilarious.

17. Being creative is fun, and rewarding.

18. Drudging up the past sucks.

19. The truth hurts.

20. Given the chance, rethink your decision about possibly becoming a spy—once you're in its too late.

21. Don't run away—it only makes things worse.

22. You need to be happy with yourself before you can be with someone else.

23. A woman's prerogative to change her mind should be used when necessary.

24. Ceiling fans are amazing—I love them.

25. Dogs care just as much as humans about basic needs—including comfort, love, and the optimum temperatures.


	13. A Final Note

**Very short but very important:**

As a parting note I must mention that all of my original characters are at least in part based on real life figures.

Casey was the name of my next door neighbor's German Shepard. However this story's Casey is based on a dear friend's dog Bo—who had a tail that really was a weapon.

As for Colin, well, there is someone who he's based after—but only in name and in the fact that he's a great guy.

Colin's sister Viv is named in honor of my Grandmother who was loved by everyone that knew her.


End file.
